


#1 Crush

by accol



Series: egggv [5]
Category: Generation Kill, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartenders, Blow Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy who just walked into Devil Dogs could be Ray's brother.  Derek can't take his eyes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#1 Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nomorerippedfuel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomorerippedfuel/gifts).



> Written for nomorerippedfuel's prompt "Derek working at Devil Dogs in NYC"
> 
> Based on characters from MTV's _Teen Wolf_ and HBO's _Generation Kill_. No harm or infringement intended. Title from the song by Garbage.

 

A flash of cotton t-shirt among the naked chests caught Derek’s eye.  The guy could be Ray’s brother.

Brad barked, “Beer.  Cap and Coke.  Two vodka Redbulls.”  And Derek lost the t-shirt in the crowd.

Orders were coming hot and heavy.  No time for anything but this.  Derek tucked a bar towel into the back of his jeans.  Drinks up.

He could be Ray’s illegally young-looking, mouthwateringly attractive brother.  They had the same wiriness, but where Ray was coiled like a spring, this guy was loose-limbed and open.  Dark hair flipped up from the guy’s forehead.  Long fingers curled into a loose fist to bump Ray’s.  A laugh, hidden by the club’s music, took over his whole body.  

Derek felt himself smiling along with him.  His adam’s apple bobbed.   

Always too fucking observant, Ray caught Derek looking up at them.  He pointed down at the bar, and the brother-guy turned.  Derek shook off his smile.  He slid a couple of beers across the bar and took another two orders before his eyes went back up to Ray’s DJ booth.

He was taller than Ray; pale skin, flannel tied around his hips.  But love of t-shirts with off-color slogans was apparently a part of their lookalike toolkit.  Derek could read it from behind the bar:  

I DIDN’T CHOOSE

TO BE GAY

YOU JUST GOT LUCKY  

Derek hadn’t gotten lucky in love in years, or ever.  He wondered what this guy’s name was.  Was he from here?  How did he feel about werewolves and long walks in the park?  Or about coffee in bed the morning after?  Did he eat in bed?  Derek hated when people ate in bed.  Crumbs.  

“Muddled does not mean atomized,” Brad said into Derek’s ear, putting a hand on his forearm to stop him.

Derek looked down at the demolished lemon in his shaker and scowled.  Running away from everything and starting over had finally started to make him feel normal again.  No dead girlfriends, and no crazy ones.  Hookups plain and simple.  No strings.  It was the way of a Devil Dogs bartender.  He wasn’t celibate, but luck wasn’t part of Derek’s messed up life.  

Hairs stood on the back of Derek’s neck.  The kid was staring at him, Derek could feel it.  He looked up in time to see Ray hip-check him so hard he just about fell down the stairs.  His shirt pulled up mid-flail, and Derek got an eyeful of dark hair on his lower belly.

The bass drowned out Derek’s growl.  “Fuck.”  Vodka, meet lemon… meet the back of Derek’s throat.

Brad shoulder-checked Derek toward the fruit case to get another lemon.  (He was surrounded by observant motherfuckers who thought they were funny.  Brad was the king.)  Derek knew Brad well enough to read the message in the shove: _Customers are ready and willing to pay for this frou frou martini, so get it drinkable ricky tick._

“Hi.”  

The kid was at Derek’s bar when he turned back around, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.  It was pulling up the hem of his shirt again.  

Juice ran between Derek’s fingers from the new lemon, also demolished.  Alert, fast brown eyes saw, and the kid smiled a little slyly.  (How were eyelashes like that possible?  Maybe he wasn’t human.  Derek had heard about a court of fae over in New Jersey.)  Even past Ray’s music, Derek could hear the guy’s heartbeat jackrabbiting as he looked Derek over.  Derek’s nostrils flared; he smelled human.    

Ray helpfully put on some song that sounded like fucking.  The guy’s mouth snapped shut and he spun around to give Ray an emphatic middle finger.  Derek gave Ray a face.  Ray laughed hysterically.  Fucker.

“Hi,” Derek said back, finally.  “Get you something, Lucky?”

He smiled at the nickname.  “Um, yeah.”  And then he just stared.

Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah.  Right.  You asked a question that required an answer longer than one syllable.”

“Not necessarily.   _Beer_ is one syllable.”

“Well, now.  Smart and hot.  Maybe I really am lucky.”

Derek smiled back.  “ID?”

The kid held out his wallet, flipped open to show his driver’s license.  Derek pulled it closer by his wrist, feeling the thump-thump-thump beneath his fingers.  

Derek must have taken too long feeling his pulse because Lucky finally said, “Just.  Stiles.  It’s easier.”

“Stiles,” Derek repeated.  He hadn’t let go of his wrist.  Birthdate made him barely 18.  Hadn’t even bothered with a fake.  Who was bouncing tonight?  “How do you know Ray?”

“He’s my dad’s sister’s kid.  Cousin.  Because my aunt is his mom.”  His pulse skipped and his skin got hotter with a blush.  “Because that’s the definition of cousin.”  Stiles rolled his eyes at himself.

Derek reached under the bar.  He came back with a beer, the glass dripping with condensation.  Stiles’ tongue flicked over his lips.  Derek ran the bottle along the inside of Stiles’ arm before sliding it into his hand.

Derek leaned across the bar.  “On me.”

Brad chose that moment to slap him on the ass, because Derek’s friends suck.  His lips brushed the side of Stiles’ face.  The salt of sweat tasted good.  He smelled good.

“Break time for you,” Brad announced loudly.  

Stiles eyes got huge and then they got surprisingly predatory.  He pulled his hand back, put his wallet in his pocket and left the beer on the bar.  Regulars up and down the bar gave them looks that spanned jealous of Stiles to proud of Derek for finally maybe getting some.

“Ray thought I’d chicken out after he just about sent me to my death pushing me out of his booth, but he is an asshole.”  Stiles licked his lips again.  “How long is your break?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Brad yelled over.  

“Brad,” Derek warned.  

“Plenty of time,” Stiles said, looking Derek over again appraisingly this time, like he was sizing up exactly how long it would take him to devour Derek, jeans and all.  

_Holy shit._  Derek jerked his head to the end of the bar where the hallway went back to the break room.  

Two steps down the hallway and Derek had grabbed Stiles’ hand and threaded their fingers together.  Three steps and Stiles was pressed to his back.  Four and Stiles’ lips were on the back of his neck.

“God, I can’t… You are ridiculously hot and I’m dreaming,” Stiles breathed into Derek’s ear.

Derek’s hand paused on the doorknob.   _Can’t_?

“Not can’t!  No, not can’t _this_!  Can’t words, or can’t believe this is my life.  But definitely can with the hooking up in a bar, oh my god what is my life.   _Can_!”  

Stiles jerked against Derek’s back, pressing his erection against Derek’s ass to make a point.

“Good,” Derek said and opened the door, and pulled Stiles inside.

He pushed him into the narrow employee bathroom, back until Stiles was pressed against the wall of the shower stall.  

“First, this.  Because I might be the one dreaming,” Derek whispered.  He pulled a pen from his back pocket and wrote his phone number up the inside of Stiles’ forearm.  He wanted morning coffee.

“Not dreaming,” Stiles gasped.  His hands were squeezing at Derek’s hips, long fingers barely holding back from pushing their way beneath Derek’s waistband.  “Can I kiss you?  Or is that not… is this not that kind of hookup?”

Derek leaned in and answered against Stiles’ lips.  “I saw you right when you walked in.”

“Couldn’t take your eyes off?”

“Nope.”

“Same.”

Derek smiled, and Stiles kissed him.  

Maybe Derek was dreaming.  Stiles surrounded his lower lip for a long moment.  His tongue flitted over the wetted skin.  His body moved in rhythm with his kiss, arching slowly with a thigh between Derek’s legs.  Stiles’ cock was hard against Derek’s hip.  

“Can I?”  Stiles had his fingers at Derek’s zipper.  

“Can I?”  Derek mirrored him, knuckling against that hair that had tempted him only a few minutes ago.  

“Thirteen minutes.  Yes.”

“I’m not going to last thirteen minutes,” Derek said as he worked on Stiles’ button.

“You’re not supposed to tell a hook-up that, are you?”  He started pushed at Derek’s jeans to get them lower.  “Supposed to last forever, right?”

Derek shrugged.  “Compliment.  Your mouth,” he said between kisses.  Right now, he’d let Stiles eat him alive.

They were on the same wavelength.  Stiles pushed with surprising strength until Derek turned to put his back against the shower wall.  He was on his knees, yanking Derek’s jeans down to his ankles.  He ran his hands slowly up Derek’s legs, kneading at his thigh muscles and finally taking two handfuls of Derek’s ass.  

Then Stiles was on him, warm and wet, strong hands driving him deep into his mouth.  

“Ah, fuck!”  Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, pushing it away from his forehead for a better view.  Further down, Derek glimpsed Stiles’ dick, untouched with a shiny drop of precome beading at the tip.  It bobbed upright and Derek wanted a turn so bad to taste, to scent.  

All of Derek’s senses narrowed to the suck and pull of Stiles’ mouth.  The way his tongue wrapped around the head of Derek’s cock on the upswing had Derek on the edge already.  Fuck thirteen minutes.  More like thirteen seconds.  

“I want you to come on me,” Stiles gasped before diving back in.  “Shit, that would be so hot.”  Another gasped thought before he had his mouth back on Derek.  “All on my face.”

His words were more helpless thoughts than said as commands to Derek.  But they sent Derek over the edge, groaning and body taut as he spilled suddenly.  Stiles pulled off, come on his reddened lips.  

“Up,” Derek growled.  He yanked Stiles to his feet and licked his taste off of Stiles’ amazing mouth.  

Stiles’ looked amazed, like he was surprised he made Derek this way.  Half predatory, half still a kid.  God, Derek wanted him.

“My turn,” Derek said, dropping to his knees with his pants still down.  He took a deep breath and rubbed his lips against the dark fuzz at the crease of Stiles’ thigh and groin.  “Smell so good.”

Stiles started to laugh, but it was a moan the second Derek put his mouth on the tip of Stiles’ dick.  “Not going to take much.”

Derek took his time, savoring and teasing every little sound he could get from Stiles.  Those fingers tugged and pulled in Derek’s hair.  He wanted way more than fifteen minutes.  Stiles’ dick hardened and Derek backed off a little, drawing this out.  Stiles thrust forward, getting desperate.  All Derek could think of was them thrashing together on his bed.  Hours of this, fucking and getting fucked until their skin was red and they were too sensitive to take any more.  Then they’d have a cup of coffee and a nap.  Derek went back in for another taste.

If Brad came in here, Derek would make sure no one ever found the body.  

 


End file.
